Night Air
by RainySunnyEnding
Summary: The comforting smell of the night air on the one night of the year where support is greatly needed. No time relevance, no spoilers. Oneshot.


**I hate not uploading. Seriously hate it. This is the first Tuesday in nearly six months that I haven't. I decided I had to remedy that.**

**This isn't a T&C chapter. That is about 2,000 words in and I haven't even reached Friday night. It will be ready for next week though. Even if I have to forget about school, it will be ready.**

**Anyway, I have been writing this for a while. I was going to save it, then I was going to upload it as a snapshot, but I rather like it and it wasn't really based on anything I'd seen, more that I'd experienced, so I thought I would post it separately.**

**I hope you like it and that this makes up, even in some small way, for not having an update for T&C tonight.**

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The window was open and the muted sound of traffic passed through it with the cool night air. A figure stood at it, head in the cold but body remaining toasty warm. It wore an oversized grey jumper, the sleeves far too long on the arms that were folded in front of its body in an act done to suppress some emotion, hands gripping tightly at the opposite elbow.

Upon the noise of life outside, a new sound was added; a soft sniffing. It was coming from the body, who now raised a hand to rest it on the window frame, then rested his cheek against his hand, for yes, the figure was most definitely male. Perhaps he was cold, the freezing air on his face, or maybe just trying to get the most of the smell of, well, night.

How was one meant to describe that smell? The gorgeous smell that only occurs when the sky is dark and it is emerging from an open window. If you went walking in the night air, the smell would never be as prominent, as truly... satisfying. But here, through the open window, there was something that made the mixture of the change in temperature and the smell somewhat homely. No, homely was not the right word. Perhaps, comforting? Like a huge hand of warmth was being reached out to you to hold you when you needed the support.

The man shifted again. He stood a bit away from the glass, as if trying to make the comfort of the smell reach him from further away, to make it last for longer, long after the day approaches. Now, his face could be seen more easily. His pale 'porcelain' skin was perfect, unblemished. Almost. A tear track lay, glistening, against his cheek and yet more moisture travelled down it as the seconds passed.

And the seconds passed slowly.

A lonely clock marked the passage of these seconds. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It was a comforting sound, one that fitted with the surroundings. It counted time to come rather than time left behind as the noise bounced about the room. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick sniff tock.

The figure was still crying. Now he had both hands clutching onto the window frame as if it needed support or else it'd fall the five stories down to shatter on the street below. His face had moved again so that once more his nose was sticking outside while his head was in the warmth of the room. The nose itself was now red through cold, in the two meanings of the word, for although it was the middle of summer, tears had made the man's nose susceptible to turning red and ill. And still he kept smelling at the night air.

The other figure in the room now straightened. He had been observing the tearful man for a few minutes, watching the silent tears fall, slipping down his cheek and to the pavement below the window. He had been careful in not alerting the other man to his presence after he entered, silently, from the party he'd been at earlier that night. He wasn't meant to be back for another three hours, judging by the grandmother, but he hadn't wanted to spend so much as another five minutes enjoying himself when there was another man who wasn't after rejecting his invitation.

He remembered the man convincing him that he was okay, that he should go out, that he should enjoy himself. He had argued against it but the man had been persistent and eventually won. But now he was back. And now his heart was bleeding.

He took a tentative step forwards, not wishing to alarm the man at the window, then another when he received no response. Still, the man did not realise his presence. He crossed the final two metres and wrapped his arms tightly around the man's waist from behind.

He was expecting the man to flinch. He didn't.

Maybe he knew he was there all along. Perhaps he was simply too occupied with focusing his mind on the tiresome process of taking and breath in, holding it, letting it out again. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. But most probably his brain was too centred on the one event it was trying to push out.

The man continued staring straight ahead at the lights across the city. Suddenly, he spoke. "I miss her, Blaine. I miss her so much."

Blaine closed his arms tighter around Kurt's waist, snuggling his chin onto Kurt's shoulder as he whispered "I know you do."

Kurt turned around in Blaine's arms and wrapped his own around Blaine's neck and shoulders, finally leaving the solitude of his mind and embracing Blaine's love in exchange for the comforting hand of the breeze and the smells it brought.

And right there, it happened. The unadulterated act of love and kindness, of two people and their undying love for one another. It was witnessed by more than just the two involved.

On the anniversary of her death, she looked down and smiled.


End file.
